


i'll never make it (without you)

by yourfictionalprincess



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Comfort, Depiction of Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Pertaining to the main pair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 18:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourfictionalprincess/pseuds/yourfictionalprincess
Summary: In the smaller scheme of things, Oikawa had been right; he and Iwaizumi would never make it without each other.Now though, in a situation where he was actively trying to survive without him – and doing a piss poor job of it – that fact was infinitely less romantic.





	i'll never make it (without you)

In the smaller scheme of things, Oikawa had been right; he and Iwaizumi would _never_ make it without each other.

Now though, in a situation where he was actively trying to survive _without_ him – and doing a piss poor job of it – that fact was infinitely less romantic.

His head falls back to the walls of the cavern, thumping against it lightly. The smell – it was so pungent now, burning all senses with its astringent touch, stomach rolling with a swift punch of nausea as he was completely enveloped in its relentless assault. Oikawa, against his better judgement, flickers his glace across from him, to linger over the figure of his partner—or what’s left of him, anyway.

It’s a mistake that he pays for, guts clenching and throat spasming, phantom bile coming to him in the form of weak, pathetic heaves. The inner acids have already passed from his painfully bare stomach in the days before. If he had anything left to give, it’s stopped only by the mere fact he can’t so much as turn his head now to let it out.

He had known going into this that he without Iwaizumi was essentially suicide. But Iwaizumi – as their biggest dragon – had responsibilities and even Oikawa – their most proficient rider – couldn’t join him in all of his duties as a trained dragon. Their instructors were errored in thinking though that he, as well as he could work with any dragon, could work miracles.

They never should have been sent on their first mission together into deep enemy territory; even something as simple as a retrieval mission could turn into _this_.

Oikawa grits his teeth, forcing his mind to push pass the overwhelming scent of decaying flesh. He knows time only by the bloated, gutted pile of flesh in front of him. Knows that it has been at least five or so days since their departure and untimely demise. Their scent trails have all vanished by now, making it near-impossible to track. Not even Iwaizumi, with his uncanny ability to seek him out anywhere, could find him now.

He swallows, bone dry throat and tongue like sand visceral poof the direness of this situation.

He looks down to his poorly wrapped ankle something wistful.

If it hadn’t been smashed so thoroughly, they might not be here like this. But that’s what happens when literal tons of dragon falls onto it the mere moments after you are yanked off its back. Maybe if he’d been smarter, maneuvered better, _faster_ , he could have saved them from this cruel fate. Brought them home to a good meal and safety.

The ambush was completely unexpected; he hadn’t realized the Draco Occisor inhabited this far to the edge of their territory, but here they were. No mercy for crossing offenders – a dragon and rider no less.

This cave was a graveyard for him; for sinners who stepped away from humanity and affiliating themselves with the fire breathing demons. Throwing him in here with his gutted-counterpart and bouldering the entrance as an eternal punishment, requested by the gods themselves.

Those lunatics were so damn full of it.

Oikawa bites his lip in raw anger, splitting it with force. His fist curls weakly, a testament to his zapping strength, wishing he could strike something, anything, in this moment. But he can’t so much as lift it, choosing to brush a thumb over the iridescent charm resting there instead.

Dragon scales are hard to come by, not something so simply dropped like the feather of a bird. They’re plucked; earned. A testament to a built trust that would surely precede other lifetimes.

His just happened to be even more special.    

It’s cold to the touch now but he knows how this ornament burns; fierce and fiery, like the dragon it had been pulled from. He feels it – tucked safety under his shirt, dangling just above his breastbone, above his heart – every moment he’s in his presence, growing stronger and hotter the closer he and Iwaizumi fall into each other.

Its coldness now is bittersweet; he can only count a handful of times where Iwaizumi hadn’t been close by. He clutches it desperately with numbing fingers, praying to the gods above that it may glow again so that he knows Iwaizumi is somewhere close.

But it doesn’t. It remains cold, lifeless in the palm of his hand.

He hasn’t figured yet what is worse; the thought of never seeing Hajime again or the lurch his heart gives when he thinks about him. The pain he feels – jolts of ravenous hunger, throbs of a useless limb, a thirst that will never be quenched – has nothing on the fact that his mind is a cruel, cruel entity.

He can almost taste the wind where he imagines him steering his faithful partner, plunging them down into a dangerous dive, never faltering when he knows they’ll never touch the ground as close as they graze.

He can feel the callous, clawed-hands pushing through windswept tuffs, familiar, grumpy voice tutting him for sleepless nights and nonstop bow practices. Catching his collapsing limbs and tucking them where it’s just two. Where rough lips can press against soft skin and warmth emanates better than any blanket.

He misses Hajime’s fire-chapped lips, the way they sizzle, tingly and pleasant, after fire breathing. Smoky flavor lingering with each languid tongue rolls. He wants Hajime, simply and surely. Can’t imagine not getting to see again the crook in his smiles or the crinkles to his eyes. Hear his serious laugh, belly deep and bellowing, like music finer than the world’s best bard. That strong scent of pine and smoke which never fails to engulf his senses, the way his slit-eyes sparkled when he was teasing, color always changing the way his moods went back and forth. That formidable sight he makes fully shifted, towering above all – making Oikawa feel truly invincible.

Gods, he just _wants_ what he can’t _have_ ; whimpers for a reality that is no longer feasible. Not now, when he’s accepted himself as dying and dead soon. He wonders what his body has left to give when his eyelids start to burn.

Truly, this was an eternal punishment.  

Oikawa sags overs when strength finally weans, incapable of holding him upright longer. He has fought for so long with little to no rest, no way to move to care for himself even if he could escape. His eyes carry a sort of heaviness now that rings alarms somewhere deep within, but his exhausted overpowers any will to listen, even when he’s clearly aware this easily could be the last time they ever open.  

He wishes he could see Iwaizumi. His hand really burns.

The sound of scraping stones, like a rock slide on land, doesn’t permeate his hazy thoughts the way that the fiery hands that cup is jaw in the next moment do.

He’s so withered, incapable of speech. Dried, bloody lips part, mouthing, _Iwa-chan?_

“I’m here.” A gravelly voice assures, sending his heart into a pounding frenzy, mind trying to discern what heaven he must have entered in to have an Iwaizumi here, holding him so gently like this.

Pine and smoke burn his nostrils. Arms snake their way around his battered, helpless body, lifting him up in a manner that makes his pounding head swirl. His head falls of its own accord, just over the burliness of a chest. If he listens close enough, he can hear Iwaizumi’s heartbeat pounding in rhythm with his own, almost as if they were connected. He feels his warmth like he feels the charm still cradled safely in the palm of his hand.

Iwaizumi must notice its glow because he makes a point of taking it, one arm enough to hold him long enough for him to drab the necklace back around where it never moved. The immediate burn against his chest makes him let out a small cry. Could this possibly be real?

Chapped lips kiss his head firmly; headless to the filth and grim that has accumulated there. Arms secure more tightly to him as Iwaizumi takes the first step, as they start moving towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I’ll take you home, Tooru.” Iwaizumi tells him, love and sincerity unmistakable.

Oikawa hopes he knows that the only home he’ll ever truly have is in him.

**Author's Note:**

> did i just kill oikawa? I mean, almost. but now I want a fluffy after chapter, so this all became some kind of symbolism. stay tune for a fussy dragon on the next episode.
> 
> [tumblr](https://yourfictionalprincess.tumblr.com/) in the mood for requests if you're interested


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